Flat On His Back
by DevlinV1
Summary: [FIN:2004:Slash and RAPE] Christian has had it with seeing Jericho so happy with Trish. He's decided the time has come to put an end to the new couple by completely destroying Jericho from the inside out.


**Flat On His Back**

**By Archangel**

_A/N: Set during the scene from RAW when Jericho was on the phone with Trish and Christian attacked him from behind._

Christian stared down at Jericho, basking in the heat that coursed through his body from the adrenal rush of attacking his former best friend. He loved this thrill. He lived for these moments. He always took such care and time to do these things to people. Edge had been the first. There had been others after that, but none as satisfying as Jericho. Mental and physical abuse is what he lived for, earning their trust and love and adoration only to turn on them in the end, breaking them down in every way possible. And yet they called Triple H the 'cerebral assassin.'

He stared down at the blond haired wrestling rock star and reveled in hearing his whimpers as he held his face in his hands. He was bleeding from getting his face smashed against the bench. Christian was about to walk away when he heard something. He glanced down to see Jericho's cell phone on the ground, still open and connected to Trish Stratus on the other end of the line. He snatched it up.

"Hey Trish." He winced slightly as she screeched in his ear. "Hey, hey, stop screaming! I just wanted to let you know that I just put your little boyfriend into a position you're very familiar with: flat… on his back."

He smirked at his own witty comment and glanced down at Jericho again. Flat on his back… It gave Christian some wild ideas of things that could be done to the fallen man. He'd thought such things about people before, but had never acted on them. Most of the time he never wanted to get close enough to his victims to perform such a heinous act. Jericho was special, though. He was handsome. Hell, he was downright sexy and even had a shirt that said so. Christian had often times thought about possibly making him into a slave instead of another victim, but it was out of the question. Jericho's strong will would never bend completely, and in order to create a slave one had to annihilate the victim's self-worth. Still, this could prove to be quite the opportunity and Jericho looked even more attractive with tears in his eyes and blood on his face.

"Hey Trish, ya know what? Don't hang up just yet. I have something else I wanna give you. So listen very carefully okay? I'm sure you're gonna love it."

He set the phone over on the padded brown bench where Jericho had been sitting only minutes ago, making sure it stayed open and didn't hang up. Then he turned on his prey, narrowing his eyes as his typical smirk spread even further across his face. Jericho seemed to feel his gaze as he slowly looked up at him. Blood trickled down over his forehead and down next to his nose in a picture perfect manner. He was so perfect, always so beautiful, but especially now as his wide cerulean eyes were turned up and reddened with tears. Christian watched the recognition and fear take over those fair features. Good. He knew exactly what was coming.

"You… Don't you dare," Jericho hissed, trying to push himself back up. "I know that look, Christian, and don't you dare even fucking think it. I'll tear you to—"

"Shut up, you filthy bitch!"

Christian snatched a handful of the unruly blond hair yet again and yanked the man to his feet, throwing his fist straight into his already wounded face time and time again. He hated to bruise his beauty, but it was necessary. He knew Jericho would never submit unless it was beaten into him. Or at least beaten to a point where he couldn't stand up straight or keep his thoughts straight. When it seemed Jericho was barely able to stand he whirled him around and shoved him face first into the bench again, this time holding him there with one hand. He reached down and yanked at his tights with the other.

"You were going to say something, Chris. Like 'I'll tear you to shreds' or something right?" He yanked his head up and shoved it down against the bench, hurting him even more. "What a coincidence because that's precisely what's about to happen to you! Only I intend to do it from the inside out!"

"Let me go! You sick bastard! You can't get away with it! There's people just around the fucking corner!" he yelped as his pants were pulled down, revealing he'd gone commando as usual.

"Yeah, but here's the thing, Chris. No one fucking cares about you! No one's going to rescue you! No one ever does! _I'm_ the only one who ever did!" He shrugged out of his jacket and unfastened his own jeans, shoving them down his hips, letting his arousal free of the tight confines. "I should've turned you into my slave instead. I really should've put forth the effort. I think it would've been worth the time. You make me so fucking hard, Chris."

"You sick fuck! I'll kill you!" he bellowed as loud as he could.

Christian only kept right on smiling as Chris struggled and tried to twist away, but he was held perfectly prone with one hand on his head and the other wrenching his arm back. Christian kicked his ankles hard enough to spread his legs wider and pressed up against his bare ass. He looked down to watch his cock nestle down in between those soft perfect cheeks and gave a low moan. For so long he had wanted to do this to Jericho. It had been a struggle to never do more than give him a friendly hug, though, he had slipped and grabbed his ass now and then, but Jericho had never complained. He'd even had the gall to tease him about it. He'd had the nerve to tempt him time and time again with a flirty glance, or a generous swing of his hips. Finally he'd get all that he wanted from his supposed friend. He'd teach him not to be such a tease.

"Make sure you scream good and loud, Chris. Trish can hear us. I want her to hear every single thrust, every sob, and every begging plea you're going to give me to stop." He positioned the head of his dick against Chris's opening, leaning down over him to say softly in his ear. "But knowing what a whore you are, you'll probably be begging me for more."

With that he grit his teeth and thrust into Chris's unprepared body as hard as he could, the dryness between them only allowing him halfway on the first try. He did wrench a wonderful scream from his pretty little victim, though, which stirred him to do it again. He could almost feel the delicate skin tearing under the abuse. It only took a little more movement to get himself slicked with Jericho's blood, looking down as he pulled out to see it coating his length in a sheen of red. It made him shudder and moan, but he was being drowned out by Chris's sobbing wails of agony. And those cries only made it better for him, knowing now for a fact that Jericho was going to snap like a twig in his hands. This was the first time he'd ever gained such tactile proof of his control over a victim and it made him regret not doing it to some of the others. He gazed down at what he could see of Jericho's face, watching the tears trickle down over his nose to form a small pool on the bench underneath him, mixing with the blood leaking from his forehead. The blood and tears traced stunning patterns over each lovely feature, highlighting his agony in unimaginably perfect ways. It pushed him to move faster, deeper, seeking out the pleasure for himself and the pain for Chris. Every driving thrust he gave brought a cry from them both, one in sweet pleasure and the other in even sweeter torture. The hall was filled with the sounds of Chris Jericho's rape.

"I've never given anyone this privilege, Jericho. You should feel honored," he hissed, yanking his head back as he pushed himself deeper into his tight heat. "Do you, bitch? You love it. You love being impaled by my hard cock, don't you, Chris? Answer me, you slut!"

"No! Christian, stop!" he howled.

"Beg me. Beg me, you dirty little whore! Beg for me to show mercy!" He turned Jericho's head even further to the side, stretching him in an awkward painful position. "Look at me and beg for me to stop."

Jericho only continued to cry out, his throat already going dry and hoarse from his screaming. This angered Christian to no end. He wanted him to completely break. He hadn't planned it originally, but seeing him so helpless now only made him feel greedy. He wanted Jericho's will to melt into a puddle of nothing by the time this was over. It nearly was. The intense satisfaction of knowing how scarred Chris would be was taking its toll, paired with the tight searing heat the surrounded and squeezed him, and the build up was threatening to push him over the edge. He stayed in control, yearning for one simple thing before he was done.

"C'mon. Just ask me to stop, Chris. Beg me to stop and I will. Just admit that you can't take it. Admit that I fucking win and beg. Beg like the little bitch that you are and I'll take all your pain away," he said softly, just loud enough to make sure that he could be heard on the phone sitting right next to them.

"Puh… Please, Christian…" he whimpered, barely audible.

"Louder."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please stop."

Christian smirked, seeing how ashamed Chris was to say it, how he squeezed his eyes shut and had to force the words from his lips. He was so close to cumming, so close he could barely keep his movements steady. He stopped, fully sheathed inside of the spasming heat of his prey. He could see now how badly Jericho was trembling, how harsh his breathing had become as he tried to stop crying, and just how much he had cried. He was a quivering mess. He was looking up at Christian as best he could, waiting for him to move away and let him go, his eyes begging for it louder than his words had.

"Try a little bit harder now, Chris. Say something a little more proper." He acted like he was thinking about it for a second. "Something more along the lines of 'master, please, don't rape me, please, stop fucking me.' Think you can manage that? And a lot fucking louder?"

He gave a single hard shove into him, tearing another cry from him and instantly Chris started babbling all the words he had been longing to hear.

"God please, Christian! Please fucking stop! Don't do this anymore!" he wailed.

"Do what, Chrissy?" he cooed, starting to move achingly slow again, driving himself mad with the need to force himself wildly into the barely yielding body before him. "Stop what?"

"Stop fucking me! Please, stop raping me, Christian! I'm so sorry! I'm fucking sorry!" Christian arched a surprised brow at this. "Please, Christian, don't hurt me anymore. I'm begging you, please."

Christian purred at the shiver Jericho's words produced in him, leaning over to kiss at his shoulder lightly, listening to his crying and feeling how each sob shook his body. His chest was heaving in it's effort to draw a full breath, but the pressure of being forced down combined with his excitement was making it difficult. Christian had a feeling he would pass out by the time it was over.

"See? Now was that so difficult?" he said gently.

"No," he whimpered.

"No, it wasn't. It was easy as sin… to completely make a fool out of you." He shoved Jericho's face hard into the bench again, grabbing a tight hold on both of his wrists and wrenching both arms straight back so he could use them for leverage. "Like I would stop just because some lowly cumslut begged me! You forget yourself, whore! You deserve this! You deserve every agonizing moment, every ounce of pain, and more than I can ever give! The only thing you're good for in life is providing me with a good tight place to shove my cock!"

Chris screamed even louder than ever as Christian drove himself hard and fast into his abused hole, yanking him back by his arms to meet his hips each time. He finally let loose of his tight control over himself, leaning his head back and arching his body into his movements, moans coming from him almost loud enough to be heard over the screaming. At last he felt the dam break as his orgasm hit him, cursing and burying his cock to the hilt in Chris's ass, cumming so hard that it made his knees buckle. Unfortunately he couldn't waste time basking in his pleasure. He quickly pulled out, pausing only a moment to watch his cum leak out of his victim, tinted a pinkish color as it mixed with the blood from tearing him open. He grabbed the cell phone as he yanked his pants back up, hearing the crying from the other end of the line and the crying from just in front of him. It was wondrous. He'd never felt so satisfied.

"Aw, what's the matter, Trish? You don't like phone sex? Hm, sorry."

He side stepped as Jericho finally lost his strength and crumpled to the floor again, curling into a whimpering and weeping ball on the cold tile. Christian couldn't stop the broad smile that came across his face. He knelt down behind him, running a gentle hand over Chris's messy blond hair, delighting in seeing him jump with fear.

"Do you see now? Do you understand why I've done all these things to you? Have I finally shown you that you're nothing but a little whore put on this earth to serve my needs?" He was surprised to see Chris looking up at him, but not surprised at the look of disbelief. "You know it's true, Chris. You're just a big fuck up. The only thing you've ever done right is what you just did: lay there and take it. You did very well at that, Chris. So well in fact…" he chuckled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, "later… I plan on doing it again."

The panicked whimper that came from Chris's throat was almost enough to make Christian hard again. His victim looked away from him at last and hid his face behind his hand, his sobbing starting up even louder than before. Christian only patted his head and then got quickly to his feet, gathering his coat and jogging off down the hall from where he'd come earlier. He wasn't going to be able to stick around the arena now that he'd raped Jericho. In fact, he'd be better off driving to the next city and just skipping the match he had tonight. He wasn't going to let this get him down, though. There was no way he could be unhappy now. He had Chris right where he'd always wanted him. Flat… on his back.

**The End**

_Legalities: Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Christian Cage is copyright to TNA Wrestling. Trish Stratus, Edge, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


End file.
